Diamond Dust
by XxZuiliu
Summary: So tell me, what's a word called 'love,' really? [Collection of OCxCC drabbles and one-shots] [OPEN: Accepting prompts/requests!]


_..._

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><p><strong>Diamond Dust<strong>

_1: "Walk Into My Parlor"_

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><p>"Mornin', sunshine."<p>

She giggles softly when the man grumbles and raises a hand to cover his eyes at the sound of her gentle voice, rolling onto his side in a vain attempt to bury himself in the blankets and pillows.

"Fiv' more minutes." He mutters hoarsely, and she leans down to tug him out of bed–

A small squeak, and she suddenly finds herself ensconced within the blankets, tightly pressed against his body.

"Too early. Go back to sleep, Gladys." His breath fans hotly against her ear, and she lets a rosy blush slip across her cheeks, even as her palms press lightly against his chest in soft protest.

"Shamal, didn't you say you have a meeting with Vongola this morning?"

A curse, and then the man rolls out of bed, disheveled and disgruntled. He snatches a quick kiss from her lips before getting up and stretching, and she follows him up from the bed as well.

…

…

…

It is in absolute silence that she watches the doctor-assassin leave from the window of their small apartment with flat, emotionless eyes. As soon as he is gone, she turns back to the table and brings out a sheet of paper, spinning a pen on her fingers before settling down to write.

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><p>He does not suspect anything.<p>

They never do.

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><p>Occasionally, there are times when she takes a moment to stop and <em>wonder<em>.

To wonder what her life might have been like had she not been born into the family business. When she spares a brief thought to the idea that maybe, _maybe _she might have been… someone else, if not for her circumstances. When she closes her eyes and imagines, what if…?

_What if…?_

A baker's daughter, maybe. She can see snippets of that life in her mind's eye. Wake up at the crack of dawn to knead bread and set the ovens ablaze, to let the kitchens roar to life. Man the storefront and smile prettily at the customers passing in and out through a set of polished cedar doors.

Or a flower girl. It's not something entirely impossible. Dance over winding cobblestone streets and laugh brightly, arms full of resplendent blooms and pastel petals trailing from her fingertips. Blow a kiss to anyone watching and offer them a sprig of daisies if they stopped and stared.

She can even see herself as a seamstress, on the days when she is feeling particularly fanciful. Sew and embroider intricate designs with bone-thin needles onto cottons and silks. Work with dyes and dip bolts of uncolored cloth in every shade of the rainbow.

Who knows?

The possibilities are endless.

But imagination does not change reality, and she is not so naïve as to think that she will be able to lead a civilian life in blissful happiness. She knows her nature too well to think that she would be satisfied with something like that. She is a spider –the kind that watches on with fascination as her prey struggle in the lines of her web, unknowing of the trap laid before them until they are already ensconced within those silver threads, held fast, with no chance of ever escaping again.

_That_ is the type of person she is, and this is the kind of work that she is born to do.

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><p>Unlike her, the tenth generation Vongola Boss and his Guardians are not fit for the mafia life. Sometimes, she almost pities them for being in over their heads.<p>

But then again, their incompetence only means that her job is that much easier to do.

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><p>"Back already, Shamal?" She brightens, turning to the half-open door to their small apartment.<p>

The hitman sweeps in to give her a brief hug, pressing a kiss to her lips, before wandering over and collapsing on the couch. She stifles a giggle at the sight.

(Who knew that Trident Shamal would be such a touchy-feely romantic under all that blatant flirtation and shameless bluster in the beginning of their relationship?)

She hands him a cup of espresso and watches him drain the entire cup in one go.

"How was the meeting?"

He grimaces.

"Worse than usual. Those box weapons that came out on the market –they're a menace, is what they are."

"No recruitment offers today?" She teases, already writing up the outline of her report in her mind as she listens to his words and reads his body language, and he gives her a wry smile.

"Turned them down again. I'm rather fond of this freelance life –not really looking to settle down anytime soon."

She nods, filing away the information to record for later as Shamal tugs her onto his lap and down for another kiss.

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><p>On one end of the thread she holds in her hands there is Gladys the emotionless murderer, and on the other end there is Gladys the sweet lover.<p>

She knows perfectly well which Gladys she is.

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><p>"I'll be back around midnight, no need to save dinner for me. There's an interesting virus they want me to take a look at in the labs."<p>

"Okay, Shamal."

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><p>Although she is a very talented killer, she is nonetheless a spy first and an assassin second, just like the rest of her family. This charade with Trident Shamal is not the first time that she has prostituted herself for the sake of gathering intel for the famiglia, and she very much doubts that it will be the last.<p>

The thought does not bother her as much as it used to.

"Sorella, it's good to see you again."

She gives her little brother a quicksilver smile as he slips out of the shadows, and hands over the manilla folder from her bag to him. He takes the reports she has compiled on Trident Shamal and the Vongola Familgia without batting an eye, giving her a cheeky grin and a fleeting hug before he turns to leave.

"Too stiff, fratellino." She throws an offhand comment after him. "Any hitman worth their salt would be able to tell that those happy expressions of yours are fake. Ask grandpa for some pointers on your smiles and 'innocent' act when you get home."

He does not make any acknowledgment that he has heard her, but she catches the way his shoulders tense briefly before relaxing, and shakes her head fondly.

The boy still has a long way to go.

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><p>"Heading out again, Shamal?"<p>

"Mmhm. I'll be back in the afternoon if things go well today."

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><p>Trident Shamal, for all that he is an accomplished doctor and a deadly hitman, a force to be reckoned with in his own right, is almost pathetically easy to keep in the dark in regards to her true nature.<p>

See, thing is, for men like him –they only ever see what they _want_ to see. Sure, Shamal is a pervert and a skirt-chaser, but he is also someone who wants a woman who will stand by him and love him. Yes, his inappropriate behavior is a definite deterrent for having women attracted to him –but after the fiasco that was his last relationship, it's no surprise that no matter how much he longs for companionship, he still remains wary of risking another like that again.

('_Remained_,' really.)

The last girl had been an innocent schoolteacher. A girl who had been killed in the crossfire of a shooting incident. Gladys is not an innocent schoolteacher, but she is the supposedly-technically-civilian granddaughter of one of Timoteo's old, lesser-known, recently-deceased associates –she has more protection to her name and person than the last girl did, and, moreover?

She had been one of the only people to stand up for Gokudera Hayato when those unsavory rumors had begun flying around the hotheaded boy after he took his position as the right hand man of the new Vongola Decimo.

The interest in Shamal's eyes that had flickered briefly at her when she stared him down –it was an _opportunity_ that she had glimpsed there, and after including it in an report and receiving her orders–

Well.

Shamal was either a potential asset or a potential enemy to her familgia; being in such a close position to observe and influence him would no doubt benefit them in the long run.

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><p>"I received a job offer from the Gesso."<p>

She blinks and cocks her head curiously at the doctor-assassin who slipped in through the window.

"Will you be taking it?"

Shamal gives a small snort at her query, throwing his lab coat over the back of the chair.

"Vongola has been chasing after me for years, and I haven't accepted yet. What makes you think I'd take the Gesso's offer over theirs?"

She hadn't expected him to agree to her famiglia's proposal, either, but makes a mental note to record this conversation word for word in her report, anyways.

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><p>Gladys is a skilled liar.<p>

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><p>She lies as easily as she breathes and kills as easily as she blinks; this is why no one has ever suspected her of subterfuge and lived to tell the tale.<p>

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><p>"Hey, Gladys? Feel like coming to the Vongola's social event with me? It's Yamamoto's birthday. His father will be coming over from Japan for it –the old man makes some mean sushi, y'know."<p>

She smiles and nods at Shamal, and says she would love to come. Good-quality sushi is a rarity in these parts, after all, why pass up an offer like this?

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><p>Yamamoto Tsuyoshi dies when the Gesso somehow slips a bomb onto the airplane and sets it off just as they are halfway to Italy.<p>

What an unfortunate accident.

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><p>"CEDEF wants me to tag along on their mission. I refused. They've got both Lal and Colonello heading out on this operation –in my opinion, that's enough firepower for <em>anything.<em>"

Her head bobs up and down in agreement with Shamal as she sets down a cup of espresso in front of him and he pulls her down for a kiss.

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><p>The CEDEF team is annihilated and Colonello is killed in action, his pacifier taken by the Gesso Boss. Lal Mirch barely makes it back alive, hands shaking and clenched around a bloodstained camouflage-patterned bandanna.<p>

How tragic.

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><p>"Yuni was at the meeting today. Said something about wanting to find a peaceful resolution to this conflict."<p>

She blinks and tells him that peace sounds nice. Maybe he would stop coming back with blood splattered all over his clothes –bloodstains are hard to wash out, be more careful!

He laughs and trips her so she winds up sprawled on his lap.

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><p>Yuni of the Giglio Nero heads off to a peace conference with Byakuran, head of the Gesso Famiglia. By the end of the day, there is no Giglio Nero or Gesso anymore –only the Millefiore.<p>

Shocking, isn't it?

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><p>Regret is an emotion foreign to her.<p>

To feel regret is to imply that one has done something wrong in order to feel remorse for, and she does not look upon what she does as something twisted and abhorrent and _wrong._

After all, she lives in a world built on deception and operated on betrayal. It's Shamal's own fault for trusting her like this. What's one more lie, in the grand scheme of things?

She has never felt regret, and never will.

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><p>"Reborn says that we've got a Millefiore spy in our ranks –they've been checking everyone on the Vongola registers, but whoever the spy is, they're damned good at hiding." Shamal runs a harried hand through his hair, and she watches him pace back and forth in the room. "It's been driving all of us crazy."<p>

"A spy?" She makes a face at that, lips curving into a frown. About time they finally noticed something off... or had she become complacent and allowed something to slip? "How detestable."

"Don't even know how Reborn caught onto his tail," Shamal shook his head, "Guess we'll just mark it down as one of those 'Greatest Hitman' things. Geez, and the bastard is still bedridden from that Anti-Trinisette radiation!"

She smiles, even though she feels there is no reason to smile.

"Reborn is certainly dedicated to the Vongola, isn't he?"

"Yeah. I just hope we find the guy soon. Reborn says it's most likely a person that no one would normally suspect, if they were able to keep under the radar for so long –we're trying to keep the investigation quiet, so nobody panics. Let me know if you ever see anyone acting suspicious around the headquarters, yeah?"

"Of course I will."

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><p>Sometimes, she wonders if they are all blind.<p>

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><p>"I love you, Gladys."<p>

"I love you too."

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><p>It's hard to like someone who is your mission target, when all you do day in and day out is observe and report his behaviors and activities and <em>everything<em> to your superiors. But on the flipside, it's also hard to dislike someone when you live with them and know that they are in love with you and are willing to do anything for you _because_ of that love for you.

… Even if the one they love doesn't truly exist, not really.

It's become stifling, staying with Shamal. He doesn't go out as much anymore –slowly cutting off relations with Vongola in order to let it become easier for them to comb their ranks for their traitor, because when all is said and done, Shamal is still an outsider to the Famiglia's internal affairs. She finds that her reports are growing less and less useful, and that she has less time to write them up in.

"What's that you're doing there, Gladys?"

"Drawing," she replies without skipping a beat. The code that she uses for her reports changes every few months, and is one specially used by her family –outsiders have yet to crack their code, even the genius Giannini when they had caught one of her cousins last month. "See, doesn't that look like flower petals there?"

"… Looks like a line of ants to me."

She reaches over and hits him upside the head with her papers and laughs as he slips an arm around her waist and pulls her close to him.

His body is warm.

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><p>"You might get recalled soon, sorella."<p>

She blinks lazily at her little brother, who stuffs her latest reports into his bag. The folder is much thinner than it used to be.

"I'm not surprised." She sighs, "Shamal is starting to take missions again, and he's almost always out of the house now. I'm sure I can slip back and–"

"No, sorella." The young boy peers into her eyes, "Recalled as in… permanently."

For a moment, there is only silence.

"… They have already made the decision, then?"

"No," her little brother shakes his head, "But there's another job waiting for you back home, and Shamal isn't as useful anymore, so–"

"I see," she cuts him off before he can continue any longer on this tangent. "I will keep that in mind."

…

…

…

(What is this panic beating in her heart? Shouldn't she be happy that she can finally drop this act and leave? Shouldn't she be glad that the end is finally in sight?)

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><p>She waits for Shamal to return from his latest mission.<p>

By habit, she always brews two cups of coffee in the morning. Sets two plates out on the table at lunch. Turns around with a certain doctor-assassin's name on her lips whenever she needs someone to reach a little higher into the cupboards for her.

She wonders distractedly why she is acting the pointless part of a domesticated housewife when Shamal isn't even here to watch anymore.

It's all just an act, is it not?

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><p><em>Sorry. More difficulties than expected. Will be back as soon as I clean this up with Lal. Damned Millefiore just won't die. Stay safe, find Hayato if you need help. Love you.<em>

_-Shamal._

…

She frowns as tension she hadn't even noticed slipping into her frame relaxes at receiving the note. Shamal is only a target, nothing more –that means it's impossible for her to feel worried for him.

(… Isn't it?)

She scrawls out a quick message in return:

_It's okay. Be careful, stay safe, don't get hurt. Love you too._

_-Gladys._

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><p>She never receives a response. She tells herself that she isn't bothered by it.<p>

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><p>The bed feels empty and the kitchen too large and the living room too quiet. She isn't bothered by this, either.<p>

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><p>… How long does he plan to make her wait?<p>

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><p>One day, the door creaks open and she turns around with a bright smile on her face and a name on her lips.<p>

"Sha–"

Her little brother stands in the doorway, face bland and eyes blank.

"Sorella..." It is the first in a long time that she sees him truly hesitate, and before she can berate him for showing his emotions so carelessly– "Shamal is dead."

"Oh," is all she says.

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><p>"<em>I love you, Gladys."<em>

"_I love you too."_

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><p>… Shamal is a fool.<p>

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><p>She pushes past the oaken doors emblazoned with the Vongola crest, easily backhanding the guards standing there, and effortlessly ignores the completely floored, dumbstruck looks that she receives as she sweeps over to the chair at the other end of the table in the not-so-empty meeting room. Sitting down and letting her gaze cut across to the young man sitting on the other end, ignoring Irie's stutters and the Cloud Guardian's glare–<p>

Vongola Decimo.

"G-Gladys?"

When she speaks, her voice is not gentle and soft. Not anymore. It is cold and hard, just as she had always spoken years and years ago before she settled down to play housewife for the foolish man called Shamal.

"My name is Gladiolus."

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><p>.<p>

…

.

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><p><span>Author's Notes:<span>

Written fairly quickly, so please let me know of any mistakes you see in the text. Not too horrible, I hope?

The last line of this chapter is meant to be significant in the fact that Byakuran's subordinates have flower names. Gladys –Gladiolus, really– is a spy and an undercover agent, who was originally sent to spy 'anywhere close to the Vongola Famiglia,' and eventually ends up as Shamal's lover. It's just another mission for her, until somehow, somewhere along the lines, things become… _more_.

(This is also my explanation for why Shamal mysteriously vanishes during the Future arc in canon. xD)

So, on the general topic of _Diamond Dust._ I will be **accepting requests** for future chapters _**only if there are prompts attached**__**. **_

Confused?

Example of a prompt for this chapter: "ShamalxOC, in which the OC is a spy for Byakuran." Not very specific, I know, but feel free to add whatever parameters or ideas you'd like to see written. :3

If you submit a review with nothing but "[Insert random character name]xOC, please," I will most likely ignore it. Sorry. _Diamond Dust_ is meant to be a playground of ideas. If there's no description of any sort other than a general pairing request, it'll probably end up shuffled to the bottom of my list. So include a prompt, please!

-XxZuiliu


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